Doctor's Orders
by Rhea-samma
Summary: A collection of disjointed drabbles and vingettes revolving around our favorite KyotoSector Shinigami Watari! WatarixTatsuminess in there too. Rated for implications and a few words here and there
1. A Simple Matter of Persuasion

This is simply a collection of Watari and WatarixTatsumi vingettes. I doubt any of them are related, but if they are I will say so. If I don't, simply assume they're all different drabbles. I disclaim any rights of wonership pertaining to the wonderful goodness that is Descendents of Darkness.

---

**A Simple Matter of Persuasion**

Watari Yutaka was skilled at getting what he wanted out of other people. It was all rather like an appalingly easy science experiment to him. He knew people, and what buttons to push, how to prod, when to tease, when to back off, and when to persevere. He knew psychology and had a fair number of twisted mind games up his sleeves for the harder cases. And his irrefutable logic was infamous to those that knew of him. Fortunately, Watari was a kind, people-liking person and used his powers of persuasion and interrogation only when nessisary. In fact, he could get what he wanted half the time by begging and making a fool out of himself. Either that or just being his usual cheerful self. Yes, the tools at his disposal were many, and underneath the lanky, absent-minded front, he had the will and the experience to use every single one to get his way. But his true trump card, was his degree.

Watari had a masters degree and had been two years into his doctarate before he died. However, he'd since finished the course, and gotten a few other unrelated degrees as well. Of course, it was somewhat difficult, and he had to take all his courses by correspondance, and under false names, but it was well worth it.

Because whenever all the aformentioned methods failed to make someone give in, Watari would lean in with his own evil, devious grin and let the command, "Doctor's orders" fall. Of course, he didn't use it all that often. In fact that was part of that manuever's power, it was so rarely used, and if Watari had actually pulled out a 'doctor's orders' it probably meant whatever it was, was important.

In fact, the number of times he let the command ring was only about half a dozen times or so--over a total of 25-26+ years.

...Tatsumi wasn't quite sure _why_ he knew the exact number, but perhaps he'd always known it somewhere in the back of his mind. Now it resurfaced to the blank forefront of his mind as he tried desperately to think of something to destroy Watari's argument--all the while trying to buy time by rearranging the papers on his desk.

...He found nothing. The secretary glared sternly up at the blond standing on the opposite side of his desk, over the rims of his wire-rimmed glasses.

"..You know how incredibly obnoxious you are when you are right, you know that don't you?" The accusation was delivered in a shrewd tone, because it wasn't a question. Of course Watari knew he was nigh unbearable while gloating. It was all part of the man's calculations. He smiled, still radiating smugness and superiority.

"Of course!" Tatsumi sighed and shook his head. Though he could summon up his shadows and kick Watari's ass six ways from Sunday if he wanted to, though he was several years and a couple decades his superior, and that he was no intellectual slouch himself, Tatsumi would _always_ lose the game played on the mental battlefield. He stood up grumbling,

"I think it's unfair to use your superior people skills against me. Not to mention sinking down to using your degree." That was no whine at the end, Tatsumi Seiichiro did not _whine_, it was a soulful lament. Watari linked his elbow with Tatsumi's, flustering the elder man wonderfully,

"Probably, but how else would I get you to take me to dinner?"


	2. Perscription

Same as before: I no own Yami no Matsuei/DoD

----

**The Perscription**

A small, innocuous white pad of paper lay on the Secretary's desk. Everyone else had gone home, so no one else would see it. It had a large "Rx" hastily scribbled on the top and had a short list written down in smaller, equally rushed, slanted writing.

_1. Follow Watari-sensei's orders._ It was an assertion, not a request. The unwritten words were: _'or I start kicking your butt.'_

_2. Fuck Watari-sensei senseless..._ There was a smaller scribble next to this demand, clearly a tiny, pleading afterthought. _...please?_

When Tatsumi appeared in the lab later, white note in hand, the scientist turned and almost fell over when Tatsumi deadpanned with utmost sincerity: "How many doses do I need to take Watari?"


	3. Or as the extremely vulgar call it

If you've read _Drowned Wednesday_ by Garth Nix, then the title should make sense to you XD

--- **"Or as the _extremely vulgar_ call it, 'Loblolly Boy'"**

Tatsumi stirred and opened his eyes, which turned out to be a mistake. They instantly closed against the blinding white ceiling lights. What had happened..? Where was he? And where were his glasses? Slowly, stiffly Tatsumi sat up, looking at his lap this time when he slowly opened them. Ouch. The sudden excess of stimuli to his retinas after such a long period of dormancy gave him the seedlings of a headache. He blinked a couple more times. Why was he so stiff? Oh.. there were bandages all over him. That must be what had hindered his sitting up motion.

"I see you decided to wake up." Tatsumi turned his head toward the voice, but he cringed as the muscles caught partway there. "Don't do that you idiot," this was said with half an exclamation point. The voice came into view and it was a white blob with yellow hair. That could only be Watari. Blindly Tatsumi reached a stiff, well-wrapped hand to the small table beside the bed. After a few moments of searching he found his glasses and managed to clumsily shove them onto his face. Now that Watari was in focus they stared at each other for a few minutes. After awhile Tatsumi finally broke the silence,

"What...happened?" Watari walked over to the bed without any sense of urgency. He visually assessed his patient while he queried,

"Does getting your butt kicked and stomped on by a gone-rouge, wild Tsutsuga sound familiar?" Tatsumi let his head fall back as far as it would in its swollen and bandaged state,

"Aaah." Yes, now he remembered. Someone's shiki had decided its master was no longer worthy and started wreaking havoc. Since Shikigami expert Tsuzuki and Shrine maiden Kannuki were gone, Tatsumi had been called in to help with security in subduing the large, red demon-wolf. _And I looked into its eyes..._ Tatsumi hadn't meant to. It was a momentary slip on his part, but then he was immobilized and no longer able to see...and that's when he started to remember severe pain and lots of roars and growling before slipping under. Meanwhile, Watari had finished his examination and had changed one of the bandages around the secretary's side.

"You seem to be healing up okay. Seems like there was a bit of venom in the thing's teeth that's slowing down your healing powers, but other than that you're fine. I want you to stay here though, just to be sure the venom doesn't exhaust your powers. Lie down." Tatsumi shifted slightly so that the was facing the other man,

"How long was I asleep Watari?" The scientist frowned at him,

"I told you to sit. And if it matters to you--three days." Tatsumi felt his body lurch and he threw the covers aside and sprang out of bed as best he was able--that is he hopped up, winced at the soreness of his leg and back muscles, and collapsed into Watari's waiting arms as he fell the moment he put weight on his foot. Watari helped him get into a more vertical position--arguing all the while, "You _idiot!_ I told you to lie. down."

"I need to get to work Watari!"

"Like hell you are! Sit down before you hurt yourself again!"

"Get me to my office! As your superior I--" Tatsumi was trembling at the extended effort of standing.

"What is _wrong_ with you? Can't you follow simple directions?" Watari shoved Tatsumi back down onto the bed by the shoulders, "Honestly. Ever hear of the phrase 'follow the doctor's orders?'" Tatsumi adjusted his glasses with a bandaged hand,

"In my day, people died regularly of appendicitis and hospitals were just about as good as the death sentence, which was carried out by beheading." Watari's eyes flashed with a mixture of danger and good humor,

"Well, I can believe that if Muraki's grandfather was in business."

"I never met the man, so I don't know how alike they are. I am reasonably certain however, that he was using the best technology available to him at the time, which included skull drilling for headaches and bloodletting for fevers."

"Yeah well, I am _not_ one of your butchers from The Dawn of Medical History, Tatsumi-san. Don't you _dare_ lump me in with those Loblolly Boys." The man quelled slightly, attempting to justify himself,

"I wasn't--"

"Shut your face then, and rest. Doctor's orders!" Tatsumi snorted, even as he made to lay back down,

"You don't have a doctorate. You don't even have a masters!" Watari shushed him while pulling the white linen sheets over the secretary,

"Only because I died before I completed my final year. That does tend to get in the way of conferences of educational degrees. Never fear however, since my untimely expiration, I have since done enough research for doctorates spanning several fields." Tatsumi stilled while Watari removed his glasses for him,

"I am not reassured." Watari flashed a smile, somewhat fuzzy to Tatsumi now that his glasses were off,

"I haven't killed anyone yet." The secretary groaned,

"You might just achieve it if you continue with your terrible jokes." Watari smirked. Or maybe he was grimacing, it was difficult to tell now,

"Be careful. One day you might find something I say funny and die laughing." Tatsumi suppressed a slight upturn of the lips,

"I thought I was supposed to be resting?"

"You are. I am now going to bore you to sleep Tatsumi. Ahem!" There was the sound of flapping papers, and the blurry figure of the scientist pulled out what appeared to be a thick stack of paper from one of the pockets. Strange. It really shouldn't have fit in the labcoat...Tatsumi yawned, fighting off the fatigue that still clung to his bones and joints. His closed his eyes simply to rest them, they still hurt a little. "This is the story about 'The Resonance of the Basic Glucose Molecule and its Practical Application in the Use of Computers, as Applied through the Talisman of a Basic Fuda.' This is one of my thesis papers," The blonde confided before going on, "'Fig. 1a Notes the basic strokes needed to convert matter from one form to another. Notice the esoteric markings in each of the four corners. The fuda takes any glucose strain carbohydrate, reduces the molecules to their electrons and directs that energy into the nearest electrical wire or metal object...'" Watari's voice droned on and on, dripping and rising in an odd, yet not quite monotonous pattern. However, the kansai burr was strangely soothing, and the pattern was smooth and regular, and before Tatsumi realized that this was some of Watari's 'computer wizardry' to beat the ancient machines into submission, the secretary fell asleep.


	4. Mad Scientists I

This one was inspired by a conversation with a friend on one of our many drives to school XDDD  
I love Watari. I wish I were his friend. I love him as a character because pretty much everything he does is inherently hilarious. And I mean anything. Even if Watari teamed up with Muraki(for some incomprehenseble reason), it would be hilarious. Because he is Watari. This one will be a two-three part..."drabble" I guess (cough) XD

----

**Mad Scientists**

A hazy cloud of cigarette smoke obscured the features of the man sitting in the rearmost restaurant booth. It was, perhaps, the dingiest, cheapest, ramshackle place to eat in all of Kyoto. Watari half-grinned at the thought that even Tatsumi couldn't have found a less expensive place to eat if he tried--though attempting to actually ingest any of the food there without Shinigami powers would've probably resulted in fatal consequences. The blonde made his way to the man, hands tensely, aggressively thrust inside his coat pockets, and sat down across from the smoke-shrouded man without even a perfunctory _'How do you do?'_

Another languid stream of smoke issued from the man's pale, obscured face. "Good evening Yutaka-san." Watari glared across at him, eyes burning like yellow flames,

"I don't believe I gave you permission to call me by my first name Muraki-sensei. _What do you want_?" The tones were short, clipped. Watari's very aura radiated the sense of _'Don't shit around with me unless you want me to rip you a new one._' The doctor waved a pale hand elegantly, unperturbed by his companion's less-than friendly glare,

"Why is it whenever I want to meet one of you Shinigami, you always start by questioning my demands?" Watari snorted, crossing his arms, not daring to blink in this man's presence,

"Because you never contact us without reason, and you're always concocting some sort of evil plan under those emo bangs of yours." Grey powder fell from the end of Muraki's cancer stick into the ashtray. A brow was raised as he cast a glance up and down Watari, making the Shinigami distinctly uncomfortable.

"And by 'emo' I take it you are referring to the newest sub-culture adopted by our youth?"

"Pretty much, yeah." Watari sounded proud, as if Muraki deserved a cookie for solving that. (Actually he was sort of impressed by Muraki's social awareness, but, being alive made it easier to keep up with the news and changes in society.)

"...'Emo' it may be, but it is under better control than that.. _growth_ attached to your head. I suggest you try and tame your mane again Yutaka-san, it's breaking free of its bonds." Indeed, locks of hair were already falling out of Watari's tight braid. Watari rolled his eyes, tapping his finger against the table irritably,

"Let's not stoop to the level of junior high girls, alright Muraki-sensei? We are both adults, and men of science to boot." Muraki tilted his head back thoughtfully, and Watari did not like the glint in the good doctor's eye.

"Yes we are similar in that respect. However, even as scientists, we have both come to accept--and dabble in--the existence of very non-scientific things Yutaka-san. You are the less-than-living embodiment of that." Watari fought to suppress a few shudders. _I don't want to have anything in common with you! _Muraki's head tilted to one side as he continued his invasive perusal of the Shinigami before him. As if in response to Watari's thought, Muraki spoke--as though thinking out loud, "Yes...the similarities don't end their either. We are both fastidious perfectionists, you and I are both men of superior intellect, cunning, and perception as well. Our unfortunate lack of perfect 20/20 vision--by the way, I've always wondered, why do Shinigami powers not correct that for you?" Watari jumped a little, shocked into answering the question,

"It's not an injury or a malady, it is the natural, genetic information of the body, therefore the powers do not counteract against it." Watari didn't bother hiding his cringe, _damn, damn, damn, damn!_ Muraki's eyes gleamed like a cat's for a moment, then he let out on another smoke-filled breath,

"_Interesting_..." He fell silent for a few minutes. Watari dug his fingers into his palms, having slid them underneath the table, biting back the impatience to leave then and there without finding out what Muraki wanted.

However, a lion tamer never turns his back on his beasts while in the cage, neither so did a Shinigami in the presence of Muraki. Seeming to come out of his reverie Muraki continued his comparison, "It is also clear we are both experts in manipulation and mind games. Oh, and of course..._we're both murderers_." Watari's hands were shaking in his pockets now,

"Just shut up Muraki. Tell me what you want." The doctor was apparently playing the hard-of-hearing game today as he didn't stop,

"And sadly we play second to one who might love us, were it not for another." Watari was still, and he knew his stillness gave him away, but _that_ was so unexpected...Well, it had been a possibility, but it just wasn't expected quite so _soon_. He constructed the perfect, flippant, dissmissive tone,

"I don't know what you mean." He had to go through the motions of denial, even if the doctor would dispel them in a moment, an up-front admission was simply not an option. Muraki chuckled,

"Please. Spare me. Yes, the secretary Tatsumi Seiichiro who still pines after Tsuzuki continually overlooks you." His lips twisted in wry, cynic amusement, "Tsuzuki is a much wanted man, is he not?" Watari shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "But I came here to ask for your assistance." "No," Watari's reply was flat and instant. "Tut tut. Not even going to hear me out? A minute ago you wanted to know what I wanted. And the moment I start to tell you, you effectively tell me to shut up. You wound me Yutaka-kun." _I'd like to wound **you** only the Kid would_ kill _me if I did that, 'cause I'd get carried away and then probably kill you and Hisoka wouldn't like that at all.._

"Look. As fun as these cat-and-mouse games are, can we just skip ahead to the part where you make your demand and use whatever victim, threat, or hostage you have hidden up that sleeve to make me comply? I'm a busy guy and I have experiments that need doing." Muraki blinked for a long moment, rather off-balance as Watari's demand startled him. Not the demand, merely the phrasing. It was the same expression Muraki wore after seeing that rather ugly person-seeking-Kabuki-mask invention of Watari's. Regaining his cool, the doctor smiled genially,

"Of course Yutaka-kun." He pulled out a small porcelain doll--this one was actually male and that was a surprise. It was dressed like an old-fashioned European farmer or goatherd, wearing dark brown coveralls over an olive shirt with rolled up sleeves, It was leaning against a slender, slightly curled staff. Watari raised a brow, and disguised his sudden feeling of nausea with some well placed contempt,

"...Aren't you a bit old to be playing with those?" Muraki curled his lip but still smiled nonetheless,

"Didn't we agree not to revert to childish insults?" Watari smiled darkly,

"You're the one who pulled out his dolly." Muraki's lips twisted again in a frustrated grin,

"Touché. However this 'dolly' as you put it, has rather grown on me." He stroked the dark brown hair on the doll's head. Watari didn't bother staving off the feeling of Impending Doom. Whatever Muraki could think of merited such feeling. "You might say he's like my _shadow_." The air between them seemed to become frozen.

"..." Muraki smiled at Watari's internal struggle,

"Let me guess: You're wondering what this doll is, how it connects to Tatsumi-san, and what it may do to him. Correct? Then you'll want to analyze and pick apart the power and method used to apply it." Watari couldn't seem to get his teeth to separate very well,

"Actually I was wondering where I should start ripping you apart." _And stop reading me so well dammit! You were never supposed to be paying attention to me!_ Perfect teeth, miraculously unstained by tobacco, flashed in an appreciative smile.

"I admire your spirit Yutaka-kun. It's so rare nowadays to find someone with your particular drive and spitfire." There was another exhalation of smoke as Muraki sat up, leaning forward in his chair a bit. Warari wrinkled his nose. Blech. Now his clothes and hair would smell like cigarettes for the next two or five days. It always took forever to wash that kind of smell out of his hair. And the doctor's musk cologne also mingled unpleasantly in the air. The too-calm voice startled him out of his thoughts, "I say, Yutaka, are your eyes amber..?" Watari stiffened. _No way_. He was _not_ going to become the doctor's next plaything dammit! He had a job to do, a part to perform.

"No, they're brown." Muraki pushed his white bangs out of his face, fixing Watari with his round, blue, electronic eye. After a few moments of this, he sat back as though satisfied. Voice filled with a lazy complacency Muraki passively corrected his companion over another drag of his half-spent cig.

"You lied to me Yutaka-kun, your eyes are not brown, or amber, or yellow." There was no anger or rebuke in his tone, just quiet amusement, "They're _gold_, just like your hair. Mm, Tatsumi-san should be jealous I'm taking such an interest in you--oh wait. I'm sorry, I forgot," A short burst of laughter like snapping glass, "he doesn't know of your existence, or your feelings. Pity, gold is so much more _valuable_ than amethyst in the marketplace. They are fools to overlook such a treasure as yourself, Yutaka." The carefully crafted flattery/analogies made something deep inside Watari want to curl up and retreat under the covers.

"...Look, just what do you want me to do and what are the consequences of my ultimate refusal?" The Shinigami was disturbed by how real the broken despondency in his voice sounded. _I need out, I need out, I needout,I needout,Ineedoutineedoutineed--!_

"You and I both know you won't be refusing." Watari blinked as though polietly puzzled. Muraki tapped the precious doll's head. "Even if I didn't have your precious Kagetsukai to threaten, you would agree to help me--grudgingly, complaingingly, and unwillingly I'm sure--you and I both know that the Ministry _wants_ you to. To be honest, I suspected the miko-shinigami, or the one with the legendary beast inside of him would be sent. However, the fact that they sent you--and that I've perfected an experiment of mine--is more fortunate than I could have hoped for. Not only do I have your help, Yutaka-kun, I have insurance against disobedience and double-agentry. I can't believe the ministry was so careless." _Shit._ There went the plan, up in smoke. And Watari would be _damned_ if Muraki didn't have someone or something inside the ministry giving him information. Then again, maybe that was the _true_ intention of this entire gig. Watari could see the file-name now: Operation Find Out How the Hell Muraki-Sensei Knows So Much About Us and The Ministry.

But that was wishful thinking really. Watari had been a field operative long enough to realize when a plan had gone awry or been discovered. And, were it not for the sinister doll warping all the shadows around it, Watari would have gladly kicked Muraki's butt right then and there. Instead, he was being forced to cooperate. Watari sighed heavily and stood, escorted out on Muraki's arm. The scientist closed his eyes and prayed his infamous intellect could come up with some way to salvage the situation. Damn! Why was he one of those stupid exceptions to the "Shinigami work in pairs" rule? Oh right. The smarts, the record... and his team of birds, who were all at home, in his lab. Damnit.

Out on the darkened street, Watari gasped and fell to his knees with a slight moan as something _cold_ and burning was snapped around his neck.

_Shit! Shit! Can't breathe...Owowowow so cold..._ With a detatched smile on his lips, Muraki watched as the blonde Shinigami clawed at the iron collar around his neck. The gold eyes went dull with a couple last desperate attempts to draw air down into the Shinigami's lungs. Picking up the crumpled, unconcious man as though he were no more than a paperweight, Muraki made his way to his car, and then...? He had some family matters to attend to.

----

Dooo doo doooo! ..Wow.. that ended up really... REALLY different than I planned but.. I kinda like it XD


	5. Mad Scientists II

Continuation of "Mad Scientists" Muraki is oddly satisfying to write. Of course, so is dumping hate and abuse on him. Bwahahahaha! Ahem. cough erm, for some reason Watari's inner monolouge curses quite a bit. But then, who wouldn't while being captured and mindfscked by Muraki?

----

**Mad Scientists**

Watari awoke blearily to a large, dimly lit room with many cabinents and counters. He had a slight headache right above one of his sinuses, so he reached a hand up to massage the ache away. And _damn_ that sadist to the Mesopotamian underworld! Watari's neck still hurt like a bi--"So... you're awake." Watari froze. He heard the flick of a lighter behind him, and a short moment later smoke encircled his head, as though it were lazily carressing him before dissipating. Coughing slightly, Watari turned around to face the doctor. "This will be your home until I have no further use for you." The doctor gestured carelessly with his hand at the darkened, dismal lab. It was a good deal larger than Watari's, but it had the air of neglect and disuse about it, aided by the dust and spiderwebs he could see. He turned back to the doctor,

"What makes you think I won't be rescued, or that I won't escape?" Gaaaaaaah. His throat hurt on the inside too damnit! Muraki's lips pressed into a thin smile.

"As to the former, I doubt the ministry will realize their plan went awry for quite a few days. And when they do, if they do, it will take them quite some time to find us. I hid my tracks well. By the time they find this place, I'll have been finished with you and moved on." Reining in his emotions was hard for Watari, but he managed not to change his expression from the bland, vaugely defiant one he wore. "As to the second one, you can't. Your collar traps you in copreal form, and prevents the use of Shinigami powers, such as healing or teleportation. And then I always have this." The doll was out again. "It took some doing, but my research finally paid off. This effigy acts as an echo to Tatsumi-san." Watari raised a brow,

"A voo-doo doll?" Muraki wrinkled his nose.

"Hardly. This is far more complex and refined than that commoner's hocus-pocus. In particular, I added some unique elements of my own to combat the distance between the doll and the target, as well as the difference between dimensions. However the effects are comparable--after a fashion. For example, I could kiss this doll..." And Muraki did so, holding the porcelain figurine in the shadows as he did so, "..And he'll feel as though he's being kissed." Watari's fingers turned white with rage. In the back of his mind, he could see Tatsumi, looking up from his paperwork dazed and utterly connfused, brushing his free hand up to touch his mouth... Muraki continued after a moment, "Or I could make his hand slip!" Muraki jerked the figurine's hand and Watari imagined--or perhaps _saw_--the pen in Tatsumi's hand arc across the paper, creating and uncharictaristic slash across the from he was filling out." Watari ground his teeth together,

"Alright Muraki, you made your point." Dangling the doll at arm's length--half in shadow half in light-- Muraki's silver eyes pierced Watari's gold ones,

"if I were to drop this right now, it would kill him. You understand that? His bones would shatter from the inside out, his organs would spill onto the floor and burst, and it would be extremely painful as his powers tried to keep him alive. If my studies are correct, it would take aproximently seven and a half minutes. And he won't even know why. Understand, Yutaka?" Watari nodded, cursing the unshed tears gathering in his eyes. His voice was strained, but he knew it wasn't nearly halfway to do with the thing around his neck,

"I understand. Just leave him, leave _them_ out of this." His hands curled into lank fists. Watari bowed his head slightly, "I'll... I'll comply." _For now._ Muraki infered his unsaid thought,

"You should be thankful they sent you right away Yutaka, or else I'd be torturing one of your other friends while I waited for them to deliver you to me." Watari's head snapped up. _Huh..?_ Muraki smiled,

"Oh I still desire Tsuzuki very much, and I'd like to retake possession of my other toy someday, never fear. However, _you_ have knowledge and skills in science, magic, and alchemy. Something in rather short supply here in the living world. You were really the most logical choice as a consultant. That and your particular..._talent_ makes you quite useful to what we are about to do here." Watari felt his stomach grow cold. _How does he _know _all this?_ Muraki threw him a small notepad, which he caught out of reflex. "I told you once already, you are something special that they carelessly threw away. Well, I suppose 'one man's trash is another man's treasure.' get to work Yutaka. I have a few patients I need to see to. And in case you think about contacting anyone or trying to escape, remember _this_." He held the doll out for inspection before hiding it away again. Exhaling the last of his cigarette into Watari's still-shocked face, he smirked, "If you don't get any work accomplished by the time I get back, I will be _very angry_ and dole out appropriate punishment." He moved to the door, casually tossing a paper seal to the windows. "I'll see you later Yutaka-kun. I think we should have supper later tonight." With that obnoxiously cheerful remark Muraki exited the room by way of the only door, which had a four and a half, maybe five inch, thick steel security door behind it. _So he's had this place modified_ Watari thought grimly. Though he watched, Watari couldn't catch the sequence required to open the door. When Muraki slipped out like the slimy moray eel (taxonomic family: _Muraena_) he was, the Shinigami tore his gaze away from the door(s) and looked at the notebook in his hands. Watari sighed and flipped it open.

His brows contracted in concentration as he read the first page, quirked up in puzzlement on the second, and rocketed towards his hairline by the third page. _That crazy fuck. He's at it again._

Muraki was trying to create, and reanimate, human cells.

However, something puzzled Watari--it had been bothering him since Kyoto. _The hell does he want to do that for? I thought he devoted his time and energies outside his job to torture and death. Weirdo._ Childishly, Watari started doodling insulting stick figures of in the margins, some over the actual instructions--which were already committed to memory, stupid photographic memory--and while he was thinking about it, many were of eels or part-person/part-eels. He added some speech bubbles to them. ("hi i'm MURAENA KAZUTAKA"; "Stick your hand in the crack, and you won't get it back--that's A MORAY!";"When the Moon hits your (missing) eye, like a blood-drop in the sky--That's a MORAY!"; "imma slithery, slimy coward who shafts Shinigami to make me feel better about myself"; "Muraena is scientific-talk for "MORON") It was not, perhaps, the most mature thing to do. In fact it was probably a very stupid thing to do, as Muraki would eventually see this. However, the look on his face was going to be priceless and--and Watari smiled as he realized something. He had to refrain himself from chuckling aloud maniacally. He had a plan. A most devious plan indeed. He rubbed at the tight metal band around his neck, withdrawing his fingers with a hiss as the _cold_ of it burned his hand, and neck again. Watari was worried though. The skin on his neck hurt _around_ the band, not the skin in direct contact with it. Damn--he probably had either deadened nerves there, or severe frostbite. Either way it was about the same really. In any case he had to get it off somehow...His intellect clicked into place again. A-ha! Perfect! And he probably wouldn't even be lying... The Shinigami didn't really care to test his hypothesis right now. He had work to do, but damn if Muraki wouldn't discover just how 'accident-prone' his newfound treasure was. Less than two seconds of activity in the lab later, there was a small explosion. Muahahaha! This time Watari really did cackle. It was Muraki's own fault for locking him in a room with volitile chemicals. Really.

You'd think with the creepy amount man knew about Watari, he'd know that much.

When Muraki returned from his patients (and a 'heart-to-heart' with his half-brother Saki the Floating Head) he came back to find the lab looking as though it had just survived an amature re-enactment of the second world war. The blonde Shinigami was nowhere to be seen for the moment (though he was probably soot-encrusted like everything else), but that didn't concern Muraki for the moment, though his eyes narrowed in anger. The notebook he'd given his captive looked distinctly, and suspiciously, less singed (about 60) than the rest of the room. When he opened it up, and the doodles assaulted his eyes, he did something very not his style. He threw the notebook away from him in disgust and howled in frustration. A pile of bown and blackened debris moved and revealed itself to be, not the remains of a chair, but of the Shinigami. With his so-called 'genki smile' in place he waved cheerfully at the doctor, as though he had NOT just spent the last who-knows-how-long throwing chemicals together at random(and not-so-random) to see the resulting reactions. "Yo Boss-Muraena." The icy stare made Watari freeze and momentarily he reconsidered his so-called brilliant...well _only_ plan. Muraki stood like a statue for a few minutes, before he beckoned to Watari.

"Yutaka-san. Would you be good enough to come here?" There was no hint of his usual polite amusment. Watari really, really didn't want to get any closer to him,

"Um, do I have to?" The false eye refracted the light oddly, and Watari shuffled over to Muraki, rather like a dog with its tail between its legs. The doctor's voice was totally devoid of emotion as he brushed off Watari's labcoat, somehow removing all the soot and singemarks without any obvious incantation. (_Well_, Watari reflected, _he's gotta get all that blood and stuff off his whites **some**how_.)

"Yutaka. I think it's time you learn first hand what happens to people who cross me." Watari coughed slightly and tried to mask his sudden paleness,

"Um.. if it's all the same to you, I'm really more of a, uh, lab researcher if you know what I mean.. not the.. field experience so much.. I mean um.." _Crap! None of those arguments help!_ Muraki fixed him with a glare.

"I'm not even going to give you my worst yet Watari Yutaka, consider this a warning."

The next several hours passed very painfully for Watari. Quite painfully indeed.

When he was finished, Muraki threw Watari back down on the floor, twitching and bleeding horribly. Watari cringed when the cold voice towering above him spoke,

"I trust there will be no more of this foolishness?" Watari could only nod, eyes shut tight against the outside world.

Muraki gave a crisp, unseen nod. "Good. And for your actions--" There was a pause and then Watari heard metal scraping gently against hard clay. The Shinigami opened his eyes in time to see Muraki scratching the suggestions of a design on Tatsumi's effigy.

"_No!_" The Doctor pushed Watari back down with a foot to the chest. However, he seemed to have been finished anyway, as he put knife and doll away.

"I did warn you Yutaka-kun. Good day."

Far away, in the Ministry, Tatsumi grasped at his torso which was suddenly and unexpectedly searing with pain. It stopped after a few minutes, leaving behind only dull, throbbing lines of ache. Hmph. How odd... and perplexing. Maybe it was stress getting to him? If only Watari weren't on that damn mission! And why didn't the scientist have a backup? Oh that's right. They were seriously short-handed, and if Tatsumi took off anymore office time this year--let alone month--the Summons Section would fall apart.

Tatsumi frowned and sincerely hoped his friend and college was allright--trying to ignore the tiny Feeling of Dread needling at his chest.

---

XD I had to refer to "The Moray Song" my scuba diving friends made up after rendering Muraki-sensei thus XD "When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore!"

And I randomly decided to look up the scientific name for "moray eel" because I figured Watari would know useless crap like that XD Turns out there are many varieties, so I just used the Family name, because I liked how similar it is to "Muraki" XDDD (hides from psychopathic doctor) Again ended up... really different than how I anticipated. Well not _that_ different, but not quite what I expected either.


	6. Mad Scientists III

Bwahaha. Watarihilarious.

Me no own genki scientist, sadist doctor, prickly empath, prince of sweet-tooths, or miser secretary.

---

**Mad Scientists**

The by-now familiar cloud of smoke heralded daily interruption number 15 for Watari. The Shinigami sighed. Damnit, when he got out of this hell hole, he was going to peel his skin off. Though it would be painful to regenerate his flesh, it would get rid of the stench of niccotine much faster. The blonde Shinigami turned to face the white-clad doctor.

"Progress." There was almost a question mark to Muraki's statement. Watari smiled genially,

"You know what the funny thing about dead tissue is? It likes to stay dead." Muraki narrowed his eyes pointedly,

"You results?" Watari shrugged,

"Marginal since you last asked. I've had about a 14 percent success ratio, but it doesn't seem to want to last much longer than an hour or so at most." Muraki sucked on the cigarette agitatedly. Watari coughed a little, he hated that smell so much,

"Why do you smoke those things? You of all people should know the effects they have on the human body." Muraki smiled humorlessly,

"It helps me with my _oral_ fixation Yutaka. Are you saying _you_ would rather allieviate my needs?" The doctor's tongue slid across his lips briefly. Watari blanched a little,

"Ah no thanks, I'll pass." Muraki shrugged,

"Then I'll have to wait until my schedule allows for me to take my enjoyment. Pity. ...What affect would your powers have on the samples?" Watari turned on pattented 'Smile No. 1,233: The Adorably Clueless and Still Slightly Obstinately Devious Grin of Denial and Misdirection.' It was the one he tended to use when asked about strange side-effects of the break room coffee.

"'Powers?'"

"Your ability to animate and breathe life into otherwise inanimate matter." Watari scratched his head as though politely puzzled,

"...Oooooooh! _Those_ powers. Huh," Watari thought for a moment. What _would_ happen? He'd never used his ability on organic matter before. In any case, his Brilliant Plan was going well. His smile turned back on again. "I don't know. Maybe it will explode!" For the record, Watari wasn't a pyromaniac. Seriously. He just liked making things react explosively, no matter what the consequences. (And if things burned, flashed, or made noise that was just an added bonus.) Like whenever he teased Tatsumi, and like how he was now baiting Muraki. A silver brow twitched in annoyance,

"Watari-_san_ that was not the answer to my question." Watari shrugged, dropping his flippant manner,

"Honestly, I don't know. I'd love to indulge your curiosity for the sake of mine, but ah--" He pointed at that _thing_ around his neck. "Your dog collar prevents me from trying." Muraki smirked,

"I had wondered why I smelled more burning hair than usual." Watari grunted. His earlier attempt to animate the iron collar had spectacularly failed and backfired--literally. The Shinigami turned pensive for a moment,

"...Muraki, why the hell are you so interested in creating life?" The ghost of a smile flitted across the doctor's face,

"The duty of my profession of course Yutaka-dear." Watari snorted,

"Bull. I may not be empathic, but I know enough about psychology--and you--to tell that you are being dishonest with me." He paused, "Look, if I'm going to ...help you, I need to know the whole scope of things. Why am I doing this? What am I trying to accomplish? It's like trying to put togther a puzzle in the dark, except that there are thousands of possibilities, so it's really like five puzzles all put together on one table and I'm sitting here blidnly trying to sort through them and figure out which one is the right one, and while _I_ may have that kind of time--now that I think about it that kinda sounds fun--you, still being mortal, do not. And you said yourself--OW! Gaaa mah tahwn'!" Watari cringed for the blow to his head, but more for biting his tongue.

"Are you never silent? As disgusted as I am to admit it--you do have a point. You should feel honored Yutaka. Not even Tsuzuki knows why--he wasn't quite cognizent during the Kyoto experiment you see. Oh but first..." Watari gasped and his body slowly crumpled as Muraki manipulated a pressure point on his spine.

"Auuuaghh.."

Everything went dark.

And before Watari could even register the passage of a moment he was waking up elsewhere in the...mansion? Hospital? University? Wherever he was. He twisted his torso, the vertebrae making a myriad of delightful popping sounds. Watari noticed the doctor's mouth pressed into a thin line and he grinned inwardly. _Note to self, crack knuckles as often and as loudly as possible in front of Muraki whenever the oppourtinity presents itself._ "Was that really nescesary? Couldn't you just have blindfolded me?" Muraki glanced over at Watari, fingers moving over a console.

"Really Yutaka. I'm not going to have you memorizing the turns, doorways, sounds, and stairways of this place. Nor do I have time to deal with clumsy, blind, hare-brained attacks at my person. Now 'Taka-kun. I'd like you to meet the one who will be the beneficiary of our research. His name is Shindo Saki." The doctor pressed a button and suddenly a screen on the opposing wall slid back and Watari recoiled out of shock.

_What the **hell?**_

Watari took in a couple breaths, trying to sort out just..._what_ he was getting off the pickled, emaciated head floating in the tank. He was definitly...dead, and yet fragments, glimmers of his soul lingered, giving the sembelance of life. And yet...Shindo Saki was not entirely dead. Somehow, Watari had stepped out of reality into a world where even his area of expertise in the improbable failed to give him any comprehension here. Watari was sure his mouth was open, but he didn't care. His desire for knowledge was getting the better of him.

"..._How?_"

"...At first I made some deals...and then I developed my own way. My own personal curses and medical expertise. How else do you think I lost my eye?" Muraki smirked, "I certainly would not have lost it in a physical battle. It was a good exchange. Besides..." There was a rather grotesque sqeulching noise as Muraki removed his cybernetic eye. "I think this is an improvment over the natural variety." Squelch, squelch, squelch. Eurgh. Watari shuddered. He hated that so much! He had nightmares about things happening to his eyes...He hated those horror movies where people stare through keyholes and got their eyes gouged out. Hell, he couldn't even watch video of eye surgury. The thought of blindness quite frankly terrified him. And somehow the fact that he _could_ heal made it worse because of the wait while his cells regenerated. What if his healing powers ran out? What if it healed back wrong? He shivered again, beating back those thoughts with a large mental nine-pound sledgehammer.

"Wait... you said his name was Shindo Saki?" He looked at Muraki for confirmation.

"I did." Watari turned his head back to the tank.

_So that's why the Ministry was never able to find anything on him...To think I'd find information one of our cold cases here of all places..._ Watari laughed riotously. "Ahahahaha! You know I spent at least three months trying to track down any sign of this guy at one time? You covered your tracks well Muraki. I have to say it... I am impressed you kept him so well hidden. So what's the deal? Why do you carry him around? You must hate him an awful lot..." Muraki raised a brow,

"Can you be so sure?"

"Pff. I _know_ you. Besides, I can see the dents and scratches from fists and fingernails Muraena-sensei."

"Mm, so you can. He is my brother." Watari wheeled around at that, eyes goggling out of his head."Or my half-brother I should say." There was another long pause. "That look of stunned stupidity doesn't suit you at all my dear gem. Do try and compose your face into something more competant looking." Watari's features snapped back together, now he had the look of a college student, standing in a lecture hall and taking graduate-level notes.

"Gold's not a gem." He pointed out.

"No, but Tiger's Eye is." Watari snorted,

"Hmpfh. Barely." Muraki polished his glasses,

"Perhaps, but they are still beautiful nonetheless. And still worth more than amythest." The glasses were perched once more on a bone-white nose. "Now that you know my intentions.."

"Um I still don't know what you want to do with him." Muraki paced a circle around Watari and then stopped right in front of him.

"Try. Put the puzzle pieces together Yutaka." Watari closed his eyes for a moment.

_Let's see, preserved head, cell regeneration, human transplants, transplant, transference, what the--?_

Watari looked up and his eyes were slightly fearful, "You want to bring him back to life...with a new body... Wha.. What for?" And for the second time in 24 hours, Watari saw Muraki lose his composure. He suddenly found himself slammed into a concrete wall, staring into mismatched eyes (one of them so much larger and rounder than the other), and with vicelike claws around his neck. Silver hair was flying out of place, and Watari could feel a couple drops of spittle land on his cheek.

"_I WILL KILL HIM! I WILL **KILL** HIM FOR EVERYTHING HE DID TO ME! I'LL HAVE MY **REVENGE **LIKE I WANTED IT TO BE! Hee heee hee...keee heee hee ha ha ha HA ha HA Ha ha hA hahahahahAHAHAAHAHA...!_" The laughter bubbled and then died away, but Muraki seemed to enjoy throttling Watari just a bit too much to stop.

_Shitshitshitshitohshit..._ Muraki spoke again, and his voice was low and vindictive, yet strangely calm. As though he had not just had a huge, sudden lapse in sanity. "Maybe I'll kill him just like this...Feel his life squeezing out under my hands..Feel the wild, racing pulse of fear. Maybe I should crush the bones in his neck too.." _Crrrrrrraack._ Watari was starting to panic. Then suddenly he was released, and he fell forward on his hands, paralyzed and trying desperately to draw in breath through his mashed windpipe. His healing powers still worked, but only just with the damn collar on. He was going to die! Shit!

"Maybe I should kill him some other way Watari? We shall go back to the lab now, but when you wake up, be sure to tell me--in honesty--how each method makes you feel. It will be an important contribution to science one day." And that point on his spine was tweaked again, _Maybe it would be better if I--_Watari was under.

----

Hmm that's all I got for now, I'll continue it again soon never fear! Isn't Muraki one crazy mofo? XD And I've fixed some things in the second chapter that were bothering me. Just a few minor errors and the like.


	7. The Eternal Problem of the Red Moon

XD Okay so this is really more of a Wakaba-fic, but ..well. You'll see. Just read it. Unles you're a guy. Then you just won't understand XP  
(This has nothing to do with Mad Scientists by the way XD)

----

**The Eternal Problem of the Red Moon Phase**

Meifu was sickeningly pretty that morning. One could have even said that purgatory looked like a little piece of heaven. The cherry trees seemed to wriggle and bloom with extra energy and zest today.

Wakaba was sure it was to accentuate just how bad she looked that morning.

Kannuki looked like Lucifer's left wing after a bad night in a mosh pit.

And that was an understatement.

Her orange eye had a spiraling bloodshot pattern on the white of her eye, her normal eye was also bloodshot, but just the normal, icky, veiny kind of bloodshot. There were hollows underneath them, and darkened as though bruised from tiredness. Her hair, usually so beautiful and well maintained, was a veritable rat's nest drawn back into an untidy, viny ponytail that was threatening to explode. She wouldn't have been surprised to find briar thorns in there. She hadn't even changed out of her PJ top--an old, oversized "Carebears" t-shirt. She was wearing old dark jeans with completely worn out knees. The pants were so long on her petite frame that it pooled around her ankles, even though she'd folded up the ends a couple times. The waist was cinched in by an extremely tight belt across her middle. It was clearly digging into her skin.

And she was running fifteen minutes late.

For Wakaba this meant she had woken up thirty mintues late, and was now entering the Summons Section five minutes later than her usual time. She slammed the door behind her. Tatsumi poked his head out of his office to yell about being gentle with the structural integrity of the building because they didn't have enough funding to fix anything--but then he stopped, when he saw it was Wakaba. He just stared. Maybe it was because of how she looked. Maybe it was because it had been _she_ who'd slammed the door. Or maybe it was because it was unusual for her to be this late. Wakaba snapped at him. "What?"

"...Are you feeling well Wakaba? If you are feeling ill you should go home."

"Damnit Tatsumi I'm not sick! Leave me alone!" The secretary shook his head and retreated back to the sanctuary of his paperwork. He did not understand women well enough to avoid some sort of strife. He only thought how odd it was for Wakaba to be so angry and disheveled.

"Waaaaaa-kaaaaa-baaaaa!" The girl stiffened. Oh _great_. She turned to face a sickeningly over-enthusiastic Asato Tsuzuki. "Wakaba-chan didja bring any sweets in this morning for meee-eee--woah! What happened to you?" The girl glared at him, making Tzuzuki shrink and regret even coming over to say 'hello' in the first place.

"_NO I DON'T HAVE ANY SWEETS FOR YOU! AND NOTHING HAPPENED TO ME! YOU CAN ALL JUST DROP DEAD!_" Wakaba paused to draw in a breath. Tsuzuki took this oppourtunity to escape. ("Eeee! Scaaaaary! Hisoka! Save meee!") The girl took this moment to announce to the department at large, "I am going to my office now. Anyone who doesn't want to spend the afternoon regrowing their limbs will leave me the _hell_ alone."

Wakaba stomped to the office she and Hajime shared and slammed the door.

Her partner looked up at her and groaned. "Oh no. Why didn't you take some fucking painkillers Kannuki?" The girl flopped down into her seat and shat a glare at him,

"Oh can it Hajime." She snorted, "You're the only one here who ever seems to remember what time of month this is." Terazumi regretfully put out his cigarette, not wishing to anger his partner further.

"That's not true you know, I think the kid picks up on your hormones 'cause he gets crabbier too. I kinda feel sorry for the little brat." Wakaba frowned,

"Hisoka is _not_ a brat Hajime!" The detective waved a hand.

"Normally I'd say the same for you. Just don't get too close to me. Kuro hates women enough as it is." She walked over to him and stuck her tongue out--before flipping him (or perhaps the Shikigami inside of him) the bird,

"If Kuro was a lady he'd understand!" Hajime backed his chair up immediatley,

"I'm serious Wakaba!" He was blushing now, making the marks beneath his eyes stand out. "In your condition you don't even need to touch me!" Wakaba crossed her arms.

"That's what you say every month!" Hajime stood up in defense, face entirely red now,

"Well it's not my fault that Kuroshuengi can smell menstural blood okay?" Wakaba's face resembled a slapped tomato. Then her face twisted and her body trembled, like the shudderings of a volcano about to erupt.

And for the next three hours anyone who walked past, stopped in front of, or stood in the general area of Kannuki's office could hear a heated rant on the curse of womanhood (as well as furniture being thrown around).

Why did the King of Hades not give historectomys to all female agents? This was cruel and unusual punishment. Not only was she bleeding, but whenever she _tried_ to rip out her uterus, it would simply grow back and hurt even worse--stupid heaing powers. And the hormones? Whe couldn't she have waited until after menepause to have died? Or have been a late bloomer? Did the king not know how this felt? Maybe if some harpies with twelve inch long steel claws started carving out inside _his_ belly he'd understand! And why had Terazuma neglected to share that little fact with her before? Didn't Wakaba have a right to know?

In his lab Watari looked at his latest sex-change potion effort in fear. Hesitating for just a moment, he poured the concoction down the drain. Maybe being a woman wasn't really worth it after all.


	8. Summer Haze

This is total fluff, literally and figuratively.(So be prepared for some slight OOCness--but damnit the fluff is worth it! XD) I thought of this a few months ago, during summer when those fluffy thistle seed poofs were floating by. Prepare to be melted.

------

**Summer Haze**

There comes a time in any person's life when important questions must be asked. Sometimes this query changes on a daily basis. For example, yesterday the most important question Tatsumi Seiichiro would have liked answered was, 'How the hell did they get pink frosting on the _ceiling_ before putting holes in my roof?' Terazume, the cheif, and Tsuzuki were a force to be reckoned with when it came to the matter of sweets. (Konoe won the battle, for those who care.)

Today's question was, _How did you get me out of the office?_

No seriously, he _really_ wanted to know. It happened rather quickly, suddenly his sanctuary of numbers and files had been rudely invaded by a walking, blonde, tornado with a winged side-kick, and the next thing he knew, he was outside in the hot, hazy late-summer air, enjoying himself immensely. He had long ago given up trying to hide his small smile.

Watari was always able to get him off kilter. It was good for him--or at least that's what the scientist claimed.

Who knows, maybe he was right?

"Of course I'm right, you silly person." Tatsumi half-stumbled and stared at him,

"H-how did you...?" He narrowed his eyes, "You haven't stolen Kurosaki's empathy in some sort of haywire experiment gone wrong have you?" The scientist laughed gaily and then winked at him,

"No, no. Can't tell you though, trade secret." The ever short attention span brought something else to his notice. "Hey cool! Look at that!"

Drifting through the sky, like warm, down feathers, white thistle seeds floated lazily through the air. The gentle breeze kept them aloft and made them seem nearly gravity defying.

It was a peaceful sight.

They stood silently and watched them serenely for a moment. Then Watari's need for motion reasserted itself and he started chasing after the little white seed-carriers. Like everything else he did, the movements were frantic and wild. Tatsumi tried very hard to keep the chuckle out of his voice. "What _are_ you doing?" Watari's limbs moved frantically, only pushing the objects of his chase further away.

"Trying to catch one! What does it look like I'm doing?" He jumped up and tried to snatch one just above his head, "Aw! So close! You know if you catch one, you're supposed to make a wish!" Tatsumi couldn't stop the low, rumbling of laughter building up in his chest. His voice was thick with amusement,

"You know, you'll never catch one like that. You're only making more of a breeze that carries it away." Watari snorted,

"Oh ye of little faith! Huuutah! Gah! Where'd it go I know I had it!" The secretary coughed in order to cover up his undignified snickers.

"Here, _this_ is how it's done." Lazily, Tatsumi held up a hand, his fingers slightly cupped. Keeping his movements gentle, he picked one of the hundreds of white explosions of puff and tracked its motion. Letting the breeze carry it to his hand, he intercepted the seed and gently closed his hand around it.

"Bah! Anyone can do it like that! But anyways, close your eyes and make your wish!"

"What..?" Watari flashed a brilliant smile at him, and Tatsumi knew he couldn't refuse it.

"C'mooon! Just do it!" Grumbling good-naturedly, the secretary closed his eyes and silently made his wish. Strangely enough, he knew what he wanted...He opened his fist and let the slightly crumpled vessel go.

"HAH! I got one! Told you I could do it!" Tatsumi looked over at Watari and smiled. The gold eyes were closed, his face screwed up in wildly serious concentration. The corners of his lips twitched again.

Watari lazily opened his eyes and let his wish carrier go too. he looked over at Tatsumi. He smiled cheerily, "So. You get your wish?" The elder man took a few steps closer to his companion.

"No, not yet..." They looked at each other, the warmth of the summer sun infecting their gaze. A hint of a smile played around smug, pale lips. A smile full of gentle promise. Tatsumi bent down and brought their mouths together.

It was a slow, subtle kiss, full of lazy passion, heat that would later show the true fullness of its fire.

For now it was quiet, loving, and placid, with the force and pace of a sluggish, summer stream.

Tatsumi drew away, his heart suddenly feeling feather-light and skipping a few beats. Watari looked up at him and then smiled broadly,

"I got _my_ wish." Tatsumi nodded and smiled back.

"Good, because I did too." There was a pause. "We should go back to the Ministry now." Hand in hand they started their walk back to the closest shrine--who would teleport on a day like today?

Tatsumi started laughing quietly for no reason at all. Watari looked at him strangely, before joining in his chuckles.

The answer to his question was perfectly clear.

_I'm out here because I love you._


	9. Restraint

Why do you suppose he wears those clothes..?

--------

**Restraint**

It had often been noted that underneath the baggy turtlenecks, flowing labcoats, and long overcoats, Watari wore snug, restrictive clothing.

Granted, the birth of the internet, cyberpunk fashion, and excess of free time may have morphed it into some sort of kink over the years, but even before then, Watari had always worn tight clothes, hidden under two or three layers of other fabric. He had always done so.

He was perpetually cold so he wrapped himself in layers and layers of fabric, desperately hoping to keep himself warm.

He was afraid of people and their capacity to hurt others, so he put on armor in the guise of cloth, sheilding himself from their touch.

He enjoyed the play of light against sniny latex and PVC, he loved the smell and soft, raw feel of leather. He liked that they were close and tangible, in no danger of leaving him.

However, what Watari really needed from his layers upon layers of clothes, was restraint.

He had none himself, and he needed some sort of reminder to curb his exuberance, to still his tongue, to stop and think things through.

He needed that self-imposed restriction. He needed that constant bar in order to still his thoughts, to slow his mind which was churning with ever-flowing thought.

Why were his thoughts so out of control lately? It didn't used to be this bad...

One day Watari showed up to work with studded armbands, cutting into his skin like a tourniquet. Nobody noticed until he took off his labcoat for a moment, accidentally revealing it. Tatsumi made him take it off.

The next day Watari returned and his fingertips were purple. Furious, Tatsumi ripped back his layers of sleeves to reveal more constrictive bands, three on each arm.

When asked about it the only thing Watari would mutter was 'deceleration.'

The process repeated itself for twelve days in a row. The other shinigami became disturbed. Watari wasn't behaving like himself.

His mouth kept on running, and so did his voice. Comically the sounds and motions were almost out of sync. Watari talked himself hoarse, voice reduced to a grunting whisper. He would start laughing at random, for no reason and couldn't stop himself for hours. The same thing happened with crying.

He couldn't sit still. He didn't sit down. He paced throughout the office, running when he could get away with it.

His fingertips were purple again, bruised and ugly. He had stopped sleeping, mind refusing to shut off, too many ideas running through his head. He couldn't keep track of them all.

Tatsumi wrote a report to the King of Hades, begging him to look at Watari and lock away the madness that was eating away at the scientist.

He started wearing some kind of modified corset beneath his clothes, steel boning stitched into the sides, cracking his ribs.

Suddenly papers followed Watari like rain. Too many ideas. Too many. He had to write them down or else, or else, or else, or else...

A steady supply of paper and ballpoint pens were set up around the office at strategic points. They'd come in one morning to discover a filled notebook on the floor. On the walls there were streaks of ink and then blood, where Watari walked past them, pressing bleeding fingertips against them, leaving behind a trail of bloodied plaster. He'd run out out of pen so he'd resorted to his fingers.

At the end of the day the papers would be gathered and amid the disjointed, structureless thoughts a recurring plea was seen to interrupt all his messages, a cyclic pattern of thought. "Help, help, restraint, restraint." The last word kept appearing more and more, becoming larger and shakier, as if becoming more desperate and less sure in its meaning. Finally the word completely dissipated, the strokes only marginally coming together to form a word.

Enma was still looking over Watari's appeal, the plea Tatsumi had sent to the monarch to help his friend and employee.

Watari was a mad, mad creature. No longer resembling the man he once was. His hands were withered and destroyed from repeated motion and dramatic cut to blood flow. There was a track in the carpet that he had created, wearing out the fibers completely. His ribs had broken, healed, and broken again and now had healed back wrong, twisting his posture, deforming his chest cavity.

No one said anything when Enma denied Tatsumi's request.

They averted their gazes when the hawk-faced attendants came and put him in shackles and chains, twisting his useless arms behind his back and binding them at the wrist, dislocating his shoulders in their movements.

They pretended they couldn't hear the blond's sigh of temporary relief, _restraint at last..._

No one mentioned it when Tatsumi went into a rage and destroyed the lab, ripping everything apart with his shadows.

Everyone behaved quite normally as the lab continued to go unrepaired and unreplaced.

Watari had always needed a little restraint.


	10. Somebody call PETA!

In thinking about Watari and his layers upon layers of clothes..again XDD Humor. (I hope)

-----

**Hiding Hides**

Watari had a penchant for skin tight clothes. He also had a penchant for being 'cold' when it was anywhere less than 80 degrees Farenheit.

Some days Watari cheerfully admitted he was in fact, wearing two pairs of pants in order to keep his long legs warm. But never with his leather pants.

One day Tatsumi finally discovered the secret.

"Your leather pants are lined with fur!?"

"Yes." Tatsumi felt his mouth go slack as he stared incredulously,

"..Fur?"

"Yep."

"As in.. from animals?" As in.. costs a small fortune for a five inch square of the stuff?

"Yup."

"You're covering your butt with stolen fur?" He shook his head. Watari was a walking PETA protest waiting to happen. "Watari, how many animals did you kill in order to create these pants?" The scientist smiled proudly.

"Thousands of animals were slain for the sole purpose of adorning my fine ass!"

"...I'm going." Watari grinned cheekily and called after him,

"If it helps, I'm sure many of them were adorable!"

"_Idiot_."

-Fin-

----

Heh I'll let you figure out how Tatsi found out this little secret xD

Inspired during a crazy RP Heh. (Guess who I was XP)

"Watari Yutaka: ((OOC: I can see him saying that so proudly too XD "Many animals died to create these pants, in order to clothe my fine buttocks and shelter my legs from cold. Many of them were adorable."))"

I'm considering pulling _Mad Scientists_, rewriting them slightly, and making it into a separate story, think I should?


	11. Happy Valentine's Day

Just something short I whipped up this morning. (Ha. No pun intended.) College and life have eaten me, I'm sorry. When I get the time, I'll go back to updating my stories. Gods know I wish I could right now.

**----**

**Valentine's Day**

Dating a man like Watari... usually meant that the unexpected was to be expected. But nothing could have prepared Tatsumi for his Valentine's day gift that year.

"...You got me a thong?" His tone betrayed no emotion as he held the red, lace-encrusted..._thing_. Watari smiled,

"Uh huh. And I expect you to wear it." The scientist winked.

"And I expect_ you_ to sleep on the couch tonight." Watari started to laugh a little.

"Of course Tatsumi." But he still smiled. He now had about 16-hours to wheedle some Valentine's day sex out of his lover.

Watari always loved a challenge.

**-end-**


	12. Aftermath

Gods. Such angst. What the hell, seriously? I should be working on my theatre assignment right now, but.. I'm not. Inspiration hit--and ran XD

----

**Aftermath**

Watari Yutaka has nightmares.

It was not a unique fact as all Shinigami have them, accquire them.

Watari once estimated that if he could somehow put every nightmare, every hellish dream, into solution and pour it out, he would run out of beakers.

Watari was an active field agent in one of the quieter sectors, yet he probably had more nightmares than all his friends and collegues put together.

Some of it probably had to do with how his mind operated--constantly turning the wheels, ever on the alert for some (new) horrible situation or catastrophe to arrive. (And therefore, be ready for it.)

Some nightmares were spun from his own cases, his past that he could recall, his faliures, his dissapointments, his futile hopes.

Yet he still had it easy, yes, and Watari would be the first to admit that.

He had no Muraki plauging him, dogging his every step.

He had no curse, no hex to haunt his dreaming time.

He had no partner to interfere with his style, to slow him down. (Though sometimes working without a partner was hard, even for a genius.)

He got to work in his lab as much as he wanted, which was probably too much.

Yes, all in all, Watari had a pretty fine afterlife, compared to some.

So why was he burdened with so many, _so many_, awful dreams?

It was because Yutaka was forced to care for his friends. Always 'after.' In the end, when they came back from their haunts and trials, he was the one who sewed them back together. He was the one who rejoined muscle, drew out poison, who realigned tendons.

He was the one who bandaged wounds that should have healed alone.

He was the one who saw their haunted, paniced, frightened, deadened eyes.

Watari was the one who monitored them, observed them, heard the noises they made in private nightmares--big or small.

He was the one who soothed their sleep, listened to their harrowing tales (while his vivid imagination provided pictures and sounds), healed them, helped make them whole--or as whole as they could be--again. Watari was forced to form them back into the spectres of themselves--a duty he took upon himself to do, something that he gladly did.

But voluntarily going through such a task, caring for his friends, didn't change the fact that Watari too often woke from troubled dreams.

It didn't get rid of those horrifying images, those awful thoughts.

Just because he had volunteered, didn't mean he did not _see_ his friends reaching out to him with bloodied, injured muscle and bones in his dreams.

Watari still woke, covered in sweat--always convinced, in horror, upon waking that it was blood.

And though he bore it all with a grin--because he knew he was at least keeping them safe from _some_thing--and never said a word, he knew his intentions could not change his dreams. His love, his compassion, his desire to help others...

It didn't change the aftermath.

**-FIN-**

---

Whoo. Leave a review? x3 I just cranked that out, really quick-like, so there might be more subtle errors.. and ZOMG I changed the tense DX (Big pet peeve of mine XD)


End file.
